PRESCOTT'S VINDICATION
On the day after Prescott's avowal, Muriel found Gertrude alone and sat
down opposite her.
"Don't you think you ought to insist on your father's going home?" she
asked. "The strain is wearing him out; he may lose his reason if he
stays."
Gertrude looked up sharply. There was no sympathy in the girl's tone and
her eyes were hard. Muriel might have forgiven a wrong done to herself,
but she was merciless about an injury to one she loved.
"Ah!" exclaimed Gertrude. "You wish to get rid of us?"
"No; my suggestion was really generous, because I would much rather you
both remained and saw Mr. Prescott proved innocent."
Not knowing what had prompted her rival, Gertrude gave her jealous anger
rein.
"I'm afraid we couldn't wait. Even my father's patience would hardly hold
out."
"It wouldn't be long tried; but in a way you're right. It's dangerous for
him to stay here, and you're responsible for his condition."
"I'm responsible?" cried Gertrude with a start.
"Of course! You knew Mr. Prescott went away to look for your brother and
you kept it secret; when he saved your father from freezing, he almost
convinced him that he had nothing to do with Cyril's disappearance. You
must have known how it would have eased his mind to get rid of his
dreadful suspicions, but you worked upon him and brought them back."
Gertrude sank down in her chair with a shiver. A denial would serve no
purpose and she was conscious of her guilt.
"Could you expect me to be indifferent to the loss of my brother?"
"You knew you had not lost him. You believed what Mr. Prescott told you,
until we came." Muriel flushed and hesitated, for this was as far as she
would go. Even in her anger, she would not taunt her beaten rival with
defeat. "Now," she continued, "you must see what you have done. You have
made your father suffer terribly; I think you have weakened his mind,
and, if I hadn't turned the pistol, you would have made him kill an
innocent man. He seems too dazed and shaken to realize what he meant to
do, but the thing was horrible."
Gertrude sat silent for a few moments, her face drawn and colorless. Then
she looked up.
"I couldn't see what it would lead to. Do the others know what you have
told me? Does Mr. Prescott?"
She looked crushed and defenseless and Muriel's resentment softened.
"No," she said. "Nobody knows, and Mr. Prescott will never suspect; he's
not the man to think hard things of a woman. But I'm going to insist on
your taking your father away."
"But how can I?" cried Gertrude. "You know how determined he is!"
"You have influenced him already; you must do so again. You will regret
it all your life if you let him stay."
"Well," Gertrude promised desperately, "I will try." Then a thought
struck her and her expression grew gentler. "Muriel, have you realized
that if we leave here soon, the Colstons will accompany us and you will
have to go with them?"
"No," Muriel replied with a resolute smile; "I will stay."
Gertrude turned her head and there was silence for a while. Then she said
with an effort:
"I can't ask your forgiveness; it would be too much, and I'm not sure
that I wish to have it. But I feel that you are generous."
"Take your father home," Muriel responded, and getting up went quietly
out.
During the next fortnight, Gertrude exerted all her powers of persuasion,
without much success. Jernyngham was apathetic, moody, and morose, and
his companions found the days pass heavily. Then one evening Prescott
drove over with the excuse of a message for Leslie, and Muriel, putting
on her furs, slipped out to speak to him before he left. They stood near
the barn, talking softly, until there was a pause and Muriel looked out
across the prairie. It was a clear, cold evening; a dull red glow blazed
above the great plain's rim, and the bluffs stood out in wavy masses with
sharp distinctness. The snow had lost its glitter and was fading into
soft blues and grays.
The darker line of the trail caught the girl's eye and, following it, she
noticed a horseman riding toward the homestead.
"Nobody has been here for a while," she said. "I wonder who it can be?"
Prescott's team, which had been growing impatient of the cold, began to
move, and he was occupied for the next minute in quieting them. Then he
looked around, started violently, and stood very still, his eyes fixed on
the approaching man.
"Jernyngham, by all that's wonderful!" he gasped, and sent a shout
ringing across the snow: "Cyril!"
The man waved his hand, and Prescott, turning at a sound, saw Muriel lean
weakly against the side of the sleigh. The color had faded from her face,
but her eyes were shining.
"O Jack!" she said breathlessly. "Now everything will be put straight!"
Prescott realized from the greatness of her relief what she had borne on
his account; but there was something that must be done and he ran to the
stable, where Leslie was at work.
"Get into my sleigh, and drive to Harper's as hard as you can!" he said.
"Curtis was there when I passed; bring him here at once!"
Leslie came out with him and understood when he saw the newcomer. Jumping
into the vehicle, he drove off, while Prescott ran to meet Cyril, who
dismounted and heartily shook hands with him.
"It's good to see you, Jack," he said, and indicated the galloping team.
"The sensation I seem to make shows no signs of lessening."
"Haven't you heard!" Prescott exclaimed. "Don't you understand?"
"Not much," Cyril replied with a careless laugh. "When I got off the
train at the settlement, everybody stared at me, and there were anxious
inquiries as to where I'd been. I promised to tell them about it another
time, and at the livery-stable Kevan said something about my being
killed. I told him it didn't look like it; and as the boys seemed
determined on hearing my adventures; I rode off smartly. When I reached
your place, Svendsen looked scared, and all I could get out of him was
that you were here."
Prescott made a gesture of comprehension. It was typical of Cyril that he
had not taken the trouble to find out the cause of the excitement his
appearance had aroused.
"Who is the lady?" Cyril asked.
"Miss Hurst. You had, perhaps, better know that she has promised to marry
me."
Cyril looked at him in frank astonishment, and then laughed.
"I suppose my surprise isn't complimentary, but I wasn't prepared for
your news. Jack, you're rather wonderful, but you have my best wishes,
and you can tell me what brought Miss Hurst back by and by. No doubt she
expects me to speak to her."
"Thanks," said Prescott dryly. "Whatever my capabilities of making a
sensation are, they're a long way behind yours."
They walked toward the girl and Prescott led up his companion.
"Muriel," he said, "Cyril Jernyngham wishes to be presented to you."
She gave him her hand, and he realized that she was studying him
carefully.
"I'm glad we have met," she said. "I have heard a good deal about you."
Cyril bowed with a mischievous smile.
"Nothing very much to my credit, I'm afraid. As an old friend of Jack's,
it's my privilege to wish you every happiness and assure you that you
have got a much better man than the one you at first took him for."
Muriel colored.
"Jack stands on his own merits."
Then she turned to Prescott.
"Does he know? Have you told him?"
"Not yet. I've news for you, Cyril. Your father and sister are here."
"What brought them?" There was astonishment in Cyril's face, but he
looked more disturbed than pleased.
"They thought you dead," Muriel told him.
"Then I'm sorry if they've been anxious, but I can't understand the
grounds for it. In fact, everybody I've met seems to have gone crazy,
except you and Jack."
"We knew the truth," said Muriel. "There are a number of explanations you
will have to make, but you had better go in."
The next moment the door opened and Gertrude appeared, as if in search of
Muriel. She saw the group and broke into a startled cry.
"Cyril!"
He ran toward her and Prescott suggested that it might be advisable for
him to retire, but Muriel would not agree.
"Give them a few minutes, Jack, and then we'll go in together; you are
one of us now and must be acknowledged. Besides, you have a right to hear
what Cyril has to say."
They walked briskly up the trail and when they turned to come back Muriel
glanced at Prescott with a smile.
"Jack dear, I like him, but he said something that was true. I should
never have fallen in love with the real Cyril Jernyngham."
They found the others in the large sitting-room. Cyril was talking gaily,
though Prescott concluded from one remark that he had not yet given a
full account of his adventures. Jernyngham sat rather limply in an
easy-chair, as if the relief of finding his son safe had shaken him, but
his eyes were less troubled and his manner calmer. He rose when he saw
Prescott.
"Mr. Prescott," he said, "I must own before these others, who have heard
me speak hardly of you, that I have done you a grievous wrong. I have no
excuse to urge in asking you to forgive it. There is nothing that now
seems to mitigate my folly."
"All you thought and did was very natural, sir," Prescott answered
quietly. "I tried not to blame you and I feel no resentment."
"What's this?" Cyril glanced up sharply, and as he noticed the guilty
faces of the others and Gertrude's strained expression, the truth dawned
on him.
"Oh!" he cried, "it's preposterous! You all suspected my best friend!"
"If it's any consolation, we're very much ashamed of it," Colston
replied. "And there was one exception; Muriel never shared our views."
Cyril still looked disturbed.
"Its obvious that I've given everybody a good deal of trouble, but I feel
that you deserved it for your foolishness. May I ask on what grounds you
suspected Jack?"
Seeing that none of them was ready to answer, Prescott interposed.
"Perhaps I had better explain; I think you ought to know."
He related the events that had followed his friend's disappearance, and
when he had finished, Cyril turned to the others.
"After all, you were not so much to blame as I thought at first--you
don't know Jack as I do, and things undoubtedly looked bad. Now I'll give
you an account of my adventures and clear up the mystery."
"Not yet," said Prescott with a smile. "You don't seem to realize that
instead of excusing people for suspicions they could hardly avoid, you're
expected to make some defense for the carelessness that gave rise to
them. Anyway, Curtis is entitled to an explanation, and as I sent him
word, he should be here soon."
"You did right," Jernyngham broke in with a trace of asperity. "It's
proper that the blundering fellow who misled us all should have his
stupidity impressed on him!"
They waited, talking about indifferent matters, until Curtis arrived. At
Cyril's request he made a rough diagram of the tracks he had discovered
in the neighborhood of the muskeg and stated his theory of what had
happened there.
"A clever piece of reasoning," Cyril remarked. "There's scarcely a flaw
in it, as you'll see by my account of the affair. After saying good-by to
Prescott on the night I left the settlement, I went on until I was near
the muskeg and had dismounted to camp when a stranger rode up. We sat
talking for a while and I foolishly told him I meant to buy some horses
and apply for a railroad haulage contract, from which he no doubt
concluded I was carrying some money. Soon afterward, he went off to
hobble his horse, and I suppose he must have crept up behind me and
knocked me out with the handle of his quirt, for I fell over with a
stupefying pain in my head. This was the last thing I was clearly
conscious of until the next morning, when I found myself lying close to
the water, but at some distance from where I met the man. My hat had gone
and my head was cut; my horse had disappeared, and I afterward discovered
I had been robbed."
Cyril paused and glanced at Curtis.
"There's a point to be accounted for--how I reached the spot where I was
lying, and this is my suggestion: The fellow thought he had killed me and
in alarm determined to throw me into the muskeg. As I had a hazy
recollection of being roughly lifted, I imagine he laid me across his
saddle and after a while I must have moved or groaned. Then, having no
doubt only meant to stun me, he left me on the ground. All this fits in
with your theory."
"What was the man like?" Curtis asked.
Cyril described him, explaining that there was a good moon; and the
corporal nodded, as if satisfied.
"Then I'm glad to say that, as I half expected, we have got the fellow;
corralled him for horse-stealing a while ago, and he'll be charged with
robbing you in due time. But go on."
"I felt horribly thirsty, and crawling to the edge of the sloo, tumbled
in. There was more slime than water, but I could see a cleaner pool some
way out, and being up to my knees already, I tried to reach it. It was
hardly fit to drink, but I felt better and clearer-headed after
swallowing some; and then I noticed thick grass in front of me. This
implied that the swamp was shallower there and I made for the other bank,
instead of going back. The grass and reeds that I disturbed would soon
straighten, which accounts for your losing my tracks. You wouldn't have
expected me to wade across the muskeg?"
"No," admitted Curtis; "I didn't."
"Why did you not return to Sebastian after being robbed of your horse and
money?" Jernyngham asked.
"Ah!" said Cyril with some constraint in his manner, "that's more
difficult to explain. To some extent it was a matter of temperament. I
had left the settlement after a painful and rather humiliating discovery;
you can understand that I was anxious to avoid my neighbors. Then I'd
been knocked out and robbed by the first rascal I fell in with. I hadn't
the courage to crawl back in my battered state and face the boys'
amusement; and there was something that appealed to me in the thought of
cutting loose and going on without a dollar, to see what I could do." He
smiled at his father and sister. "You know I had always rather eccentric
ideas."
Then he recounted his adventures along the railroad under the name of
Kermode, until Prescott interrupted him.
"I followed you to the abandoned claim in the mountains, where I had to
give it up. How did you make out after you struck south with the
prospector crank?"
"That was the most interesting part of the trip, but I could hardly
describe it. We crawled up icy rocks, found a river we could travel on
here and there, scrambled through brush that ripped our clothes and over
stones that cut our boots to bits, and finally came down by Quesnelle to
the Canadian Pacific main track."
"Loaded with worthless mineral specimens?"
Cyril laughed.
"They were pretty heavy, Jack. Once or twice I thought of dumping my
share of them, but it's fortunate that Hollin, who seemed to suspect my
intentions, kept his eye on me when I got played out. You see, an assayer
we took them to found that they were rich in lead and silver."
Prescott's astonishment was obvious and Cyril frankly enjoyed it.
"Well," he said, "the end of it was that I called on some of the mining
people in Vancouver--it seems they knew Hollin and had had enough of
him--but I left one office with a check for a thousand dollars, besides
retaining an interest in the claim. Hollin has gone back to see about its
development."
His father and sister looked as surprised as Prescott. One could imagine
that they found it difficult to conceive of Cyril's financial success,
but they offered him their congratulations, and soon afterward Curtis
took his leave. Prescott stayed another hour, and when he went Muriel
walked to the door with him.
"Jack," she murmured, with her head on his shoulder, "I'm inexpressibly
glad it has all come right; but you must remember that I knew it would."
Prescott gently turned her face toward him.
"I'm so thankful that it makes me grave. It's a pretty big task to repay
your confidence, but I'll try."
"You'll succeed," she said smiling. "You're rather a determined man and
I'm not dreadfully exacting; I couldn't be to you."
Prescott drove off, grateful for Mrs. Colston's permission to come back
the next day.
When he drove up on the following afternoon, he found Muriel dressed in
furs.
"It's beautifully fine and you may take me for a drive," she said, and
added with a smile: "That is, unless you would rather talk to Harry."
"I think Colston and I are going to be good friends, but I didn't come
over to see him," Prescott retorted lightly. "I have something to say to
Cyril, but it will do when we get back."
"You can't see him now," said Muriel, moving toward the sleigh. "He's
engaged with Gertrude and his father, and I think they have something
important to talk about. Cyril looked very serious, and one would imagine
that's not often the case with him."
Prescott laughed as he helped her in.
"I dare say he has his thoughtful moments; it would be surprising if he
hadn't, considering his capacity for getting into scrapes."
They drove away, but Muriel's supposition was well founded, for Cyril was
feeling unusually grave as he sat opposite to his father and sister in a
room of the homestead. A brief silence had fallen upon the group,
emphasized by the crackle of poplar billets in the stove. Jernyngham, in
whose appearance there had been a marked improvement since his son's
return, wore an eager expression; Gertrude was watching her brother with
troubled eyes.
"You have heard my suggestions about your return to England," Jernyngham
said at length. "I think they are fair."
"They are generous," Cyril answered, and added slowly: "But I cannot go."
Jernyngham leaned back in his chair as if he were weary, with keen
disappointment in his face.
"I have no other son, Cyril. We will wipe out the past--there is
something to regret on both sides--and try to make everything pleasant
for you. I feel that you ought to come."
"No," Cyril persisted with signs of strain. "I'm strongly tempted, but it
would not be wise."
Jernyngham looked hard at him and then made a sign of resignation.
"You will, at least, give us your reasons."
"I'll try, though I'm not sure you will understand them; it's unfortunate
we're so different that we cannot find a common viewpoint from which to
look at things. I believe I've overcome what bitterness I once felt, but
in all that's essential I haven't changed. After the first few weeks, I
should jar on you, or I should have to be continually on my guard, until
the repression got too much for me and the inevitable outbreak came."
"Why should there be an outbreak?" his father asked with some asperity.
Cyril glanced at Gertrude, noticing her rather weary smile, and fancied
that she could sympathize with him, which was more than he had expected.
She had somehow gained comprehension in Canada.
"I suppose I must explain. I'm not thinking of my worst faults, but, you
see, I'm a careless trifler, impatient of restraint. To have to do things
in stereotyped order distresses me; I must go where my fancy leads. When
I'm cooped up and confined, I feel I must break loose, even if it leads
to havoc." He laughed. "Of course, such a frame of mind is beyond your
imagining."
"I must confess that it is," Jernyngham replied dryly.
Gertrude cast a half-applauding glance at her brother. With all his
failings, which she recognized and deplored, Cyril was to her something
of a romantic hero. He took risks, and did daring and perhaps somewhat
discreditable things, but, narrow as her decorous life had been, she
envied his reckless gallantry. Once she had ventured to break through the
safe rules of conduct and grasp at romance, but it had eluded her and
left her humiliation and regret. She must go back to the dreary routine
wherein lay security, but she admired him for standing out.
"Well," said Cyril, "I'm talking at large; but we must thrash out the
matter once for all. I may do something useful here--make wheat grow;
perhaps help in developing the mine--which I couldn't do at home." He
paused and concluded whimsically: "It's even possible that I may turn
into a successful rancher."
"But that means working like an English field laborer!"
"For a higher pay. When the crop escapes drought and frost, and there's
no hail or rust, western farming's fairly profitable."
"In short," said Jernyngham, "you have made up your mind not to come home
with us."
"I'm sorry it is so," Cyril responded gravely. "Try to understand. If I
stay here, we will be good friends and you will think well of me. If I go
home there will be trouble and regret for you. I want to save you that."
"Father," Gertrude broke in softly, "though it's hard to say, I know that
Cyril's right."
Jernyngham got up wearily.
"There is nothing more that I can urge. You must do as you think best, my
son, but while I shall never quite grasp your point of view, you will
always be in our thoughts."
They were glad to separate, for the interview had been trying to them
all.
Some time had passed when Cyril, hearing a beat of hoofs, went out and
found Prescott pulling up his team.
"We have been talking over matters while you were out," he told him. "As
I've decided to stay here, my people are going home soon--in a week or
two, I think; and I expect Colston will leave with them. I thought you
might like to know."
He saw the color creep into Muriel's face; and when he turned back to the
house Prescott lifted the girl down from the sleigh.
"Dear, I can't let them take you away," he said.
Muriel glanced across the snowy plain to the blaze of fading color upon
its western rim. It was growing shadowy, the woods were blurred and
vague, but its wideness fired her imagination and she felt the
exhilaration that was in the nipping air.
"Jack," she smiled up at him, "my home is here! I'm learning to love the
prairie, and it has brought me happiness. I'm glad to stay with you!"
THE END
End of Project Gutenberg's Prescott of Saskatchewan, by Harold Bindloss